Back from the heart of darkness

January 15, 2007

We’re back from the Amazon, which was fascinating, exotic and uncomfortable. It’s one of those places that you are really glad you have visited, but only after you have left.

Our Amazon adventure was at the Sandoval Lodge on Sandoval lake, outside Puerto Maldonado in Peru. You may not realize it, but while Brazil certainly has the biggest piece, the Andean countries of Columbia, Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia all get significant chunks of the Amazon on the eastern side of the mountains. Trust me, there is enough to go around. Puerto Maldonado is a short (1/2 hour) flight from Cuzco so that it is easy to pair it with a visit to Machu Picchu. There were options to visit the Ecuadorian Amazon from Quito which you’ll recall was the departure point for the Galapagos. My humble guess is that Amazon is Amazon, and though they made a big deal of how there were differences in swampy jungle, terra firma jungle and others, I don’t expect that there will be any real difference the uninitiated would notice between a visit from Peru, Ecuador, Bolivia or elsewhere.

The big draw in the Amazon, of course, is the chance to see an astonishing diversity of unique flora and fauna. And see them we did. There were barrels of assorted monkeys – howlers, spiders and others. The howlers were my favorite. They are named (duh) for their habit of howling, a practice which starts uncomfortably early in the morning. The wake up howls don’t mean much, except to evidence their total disregard for the sleep of others. It is only if they start howling later in the day that you need to worry because that means there will soon be a might rain storm. In my experience they were uncannily accurate, though predicting rain in the Amazon is like predicting corruption in the Republican party – it’s hard to go wrong. Still, it is comforting to have an audible meteorological alarum, and going forward I intend to take a howler monkey with me on all my travels in potentially damp locales.

Other delightful animal sightings in our time in the Amazon included Caymen (or possibly Caywomen, I was reluctant to turn them over to find out) – which are a disappointingly docile type of crocodile. There was one right near our dock which they undoubtedly fed so that they would have one to show the tourists in a pinch. We managed to catch view a sloth – actually not a tough thing to do since they will hang in more or less the same place for days at a time. We were less successful in sighting greed, pride and envy, though we saw gluttony aplenty and frankly, you don’t have to go to the Amazon to find lust. (I seem to be short one of the seven deadlies. Extra credit for the first person who lets me know which one.)

Also there was a charming family of otters which we could get distant glimpses of, cavorting in the water and seemingly effortlessly snagging fish for breakfast, lunch and dinner. They would bring them up out of the water to proudly display and then gobble them down. Lots of birds, including mackaws, parrots and herons, though by far the predominant bird is the so called “stinky” bird – a garishly feathered creature which has refined flatulence to protective strategy. It dines on a choice selection of leafs and berries which then rot in its gut. The result is – well – stinky. Apparently no predator is willing to go near it, perhaps out of fear that its friends will accuse it of having dealt a foul one. Mother Nature does have a sense of humor.

You can’t make this stuff up. Well, actually you can, and I suspect the guides do to have their fun with us ecotourists. On the one hand they go out of their way to whitewash the piranhas -- which are numerous in the Sandoval lake. True, the guides say, they have needle sharp teeth, but it is pure myth that they will attack people. Well yes, if they catch a whiff of blood they might – but who could blame them. It is as though the naturalist guides have family members held hostage by those vicious carnivorous predators and they are being extorted to cover up their rampages of blood lust. And, as if to compensate for the piranha whitewash, the guides have fun with what I dearly hope are made up predators. Like a type of carnivorous eel that can swim up your butt. Or a tiny parasite that will invade swimmers urethras. The latter particularly bothered me since I thought I had made it up in a previous post on nano-piranhas (I hasten to add that the former with its obvious homo-erotic overtones hadn’t even occurred to me). So the bottom line is I can no longer say for sure whether any of these misbegotten creatures really exist, but if you do have the opportunity to visit the Amazon, I wouldn’t bother to bring a swim suit.

On land we saw an amazing selection of trees, including one that walks and another that can grow only by cannibalizing one already there. We saw a virtual pharmacy of beneficial plants – though how the Amazonian Indians figured out what each of them do is a mystery to me. For example, there is a plant which is a perfect antidote to the bite of one type of poisonous snake. How would you like to be in the test group to figure that out? (“OK Flugalmugel, you are going to eat plant number 47 and let snake13B bite you. I have high hopes for that combination…”)

Perhaps most absorbing to me were plain old ants, which in the Amazon have evolved to size and ruthless devouring efficiency unseen in our country, outside of Wal-Mart. You will come across virtual streams of them, perhaps a foot wide, but stretching for hundreds of yards, with millions of worker ants marching along, each carrying a – to scale – enormous piece of leaf. The flow policed or guarded by mean looking soldier ants not inclined to look favorably on slackers.

So should you bother to visit the Amazon? Well in theory it is a fascinating place, and doubtless with the vivid and compelling narrative provided by your faithful correspondent you are just itching to book your own trip into the heart of darkness, to get your own weather-predicting howler monkey before they are all gone. But slow down for a second. That’s right, put down that phone. Your travel agent can wait. Let us consider the cons.

Firstly, it is not like the Galapagos where the animals actually line up for their turn to entertain you. In the Amazon most of the cutest and – doubtless – yummiest of the jungle creatures spend most of their time trying not to be seen. For example, the stick bug is a fascinating example of defensive camouflage in nature, but you have to look at an awful lot of sticks before you find an actual bug. With all those leaves to hide behind, there is a high probability that anything you actually manage to see is in the process of trying to bite you.

Moreover, the whole place is unreasonably hot and humid. I’ve never before seen an ecosystem that could benefit so much from just a little air conditioning. I’m as eager to escape the rat race of the modern industrial world as the next guy – to experience the simple pleasures of getting back to nature and living the way man was meant to live – but not if it means I have to be uncomfortable. I was sticky for three straight days. That’s a record for me, at least since puberty. It’s all well and good for Thoreau to talk about simplifying from his cabin on Walden pond. He could go in for a cooling dip anytime without having to guard his urethra. Trust me, if he had lived in the Amazon he would have been the first Transcendentalist on his block to invest in a dehumidifier.

The discomfort started on our arrival. One of the more inconsiderate aspects of the Amazon is its remoteness. We flew from Lima to Puerto Maldonado, which is one of Peru’s gateway towns to the Amazon. From the small airport we took a van to the Sandoval lodge office where in a scene of utter confusion we transferred 7 kilos from our suitcases to small duffels and – ominously – were issued high rubber boots. The van then took us to a dock on the river bank where small and colorful little stores gave us our last chance to buy essentials (such as batteries and bug spray) before our trip into Apocalypse Now land. Puerto Maldonado has sort of a rough hewn boomtown feel that is compelling if not charming. New construction everywhere mixes with dilapidated old wood plank structures, well paved streets trail off into muddy gullies. It is picturesque in some ways (and I have the photos to prove it) but fundamentally depressing in that its growth is all built on supporting new and ultimately destructive ways to exploit the rainforest. Petroleum exploration, clear cut farming and lumbering seem to be the driving forces. Ecotourism, such as our little trip, is but a small side line.

We set off on narrow wooden river boats onto the Madre de Dios river (“Mother of God” a great name if ever there was one) which soon joined the Vaca del Diable (“Cow of the Devil” -- not really, but you have to admit it would be a cool name too). My apt references to the African Queen and Joseph Conrad were lost on just about everyone. (The level of cultural illiteracy out there is astonishing and a subject – perhaps – for an especially boring and pedantic future post.) A ride of perhaps 45 minutes took us to a riverbank dock where the reason for the afore-mentioned rubber boots became apparent.

You see, the Sandoval lodge, our ultimate destination, is not on the Madre de Dios river itself but on a small oxbow lake several kilometers away. A 3 kilometer jungle trail led us there. It being the rainy season, the trail was mud up to our ankles and slow, hot and uncomfortable going. We had real concern for some of the older (70 plus) members of our tour group who had been told only of a modest and scenic stroll. GAP Adventures deserves a wag of the finger for that (if not a hefty lawsuit) but fortunately, all of us made it through not much the worse for wear. The trek did have the effect of making us feel we had really fought our way into the wilderness.

From the trail end small boats took us across Sandoval lake to the Sandoval lodge. Sandoval lake is lovely and pristine. It’s a kidney shape, say a couple of kilometers from end to end. Much of the animal sightings described above come while cruising on comfortable boats or rafts along the lake shores. The Lodge is also charming and rustic. There is a large public room with chairs and hammocks, dining tables, and a much appreciated bar. The lodge rooms are quite basic – a couple of beds with mosquito netting.

In retrospect, it really was an interesting trip. And perhaps my tone is excessively soured by the mud. (The return trip, by the way was even muddier thanks to new rains while we were there, but if you go during the dry season or get lucky you may fare better.) And the fact that we all contracted salmonella while there may not have helped either. But more on that anon.